


Slow Brew

by old_shizuumi151 (shizuumi151)



Series: Parallel Universes [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, coffee shop AU, weee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuumi151/pseuds/old_shizuumi151
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warm with beige walls, wooden stools, ceramic mugs, it was his haven. He shifted between the coffee machine, the blends, the shelves, to serve his customers. It kept him so comfortable, when a small delight blossomed on his patron’s face, when he shared his coffee.</p><p>Maintaining his café, Haru felt happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Brew

Maintaining the café, Haru felt content.

Every morning, before he opened shop, he put a navy blue apron over his simple dress shirt. Then he’d roll the sleeves up to his elbows and fasten them there, before he swivelled the placard at the entrance from _closed_ to _open_.

He liked baking all of the snacks, brewing all the drinks. He liked the slow mornings, the peaceful clacks of his chalk when he sketched the latest promotion on the blackboard. He liked how his café was just a simple countertop with a coat rack a little ways away. Almost like a bar except homely, cosy.

Warm with beige walls, wooden stools, ceramic mugs, it was his haven. He shifted between the coffee machine, the blends, the shelves, to serve his customers. It kept him so comfortable, when a small delight blossomed on his patron’s face, when he shared his coffee.

Maintaining his café, Haru felt happy.

* * *

On a slow afternoon, Haru towelled mugs behind the counter. He thought of what special he should offer next, his chalk and board waiting.

He looked below the shelves, where his sketchbook was staring. But he never felt like drawing anymore.

 

He felt a breath of winter, borne by the jingle of his door.

 

Wiping his hands, Haru turned to the customer lingered by the entrance which already tinkled shut. He didn’t turn to them yet. He simply looked out the corner of his eye, twinkling deep blue as he watched his new patron.

A man. Easy to tell—from his build, from his height, similar to Haru’s own.

His clothes were woollen greys, warding off the cold his café shunned. They hid whatever else Haru could make out of him as his back faced the counter, as he faced the coat hanger. He pulled gloved hands out his pockets to hook his scarf, his strong fingers delicate in untwining it.

The scarf slipped off to show a pale nape. Tufts of red peeked out from his cap, like speckles of ember against charcoal clothes.

Haru turned his head, watching him tug his beanie off.

His hair flowed down, so crimson tresses tickled the base of his neck. He shrugged off his parka, his shirt underneath fitting his broad shoulders, showing the frame of a diligent athlete.

Hanging up his clothes, he was patient. So was Haru.

“Welcome to the café,” he greeted, a soft monotone. “How may I serve you?”

 

He finally saw the man’s face.

 

Handsome, hidden by wine bangs mussed from a beanie, marred with a freckled flush of tears, puffy eyes, downcast, that glimmered red with more.

Haru blinked.

The room was soundless, besides winter gently rapping on the window. Besides the man’s suppressed, helpless sniffling. The lullaby of ambience soothed the consuming silence, and he wordlessly approached the stool closest to him. To Haru, too.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “…Sorry.”

He didn’t buy anything that afternoon.

Haru let him stay anyway.

* * *

The next day, he came again.

Tears didn’t. Neither did words.

But quietude was Haru’s close friend, and it was okay to share.

* * *

One evening, they spoke. The man had initiated it—Haru had started drawing.

“What do you think about gay people?”

Haru kept his line smooth. “My first kiss was a guy.”

“I see.”

“Are you homophobic?”

“Take off the phobic.”

“…I see.”

A rumble in grey skies called their gaze. They reclined into silence.

Haru kept drawing.

* * *

By a week’s time, Haru realised he wasn’t capable of breaking silence himself. But he gained the inkling he had to.

Crossed arms like his, a slouch like his belonged to a bar and stolen hours, belonged to the solace of alcohol to repair something crackling and broken.

It should be better then, that he came to his coffee shop everyday instead.

Haru fiddled with his napkin, and opened his mouth—

“I’d…like something to drink today.”

His anxiety unclenched. “What would you like?”

“Just—anything strong.”

“…What’s your name?”

He had looked surprised, about to say something, swallowing a rasp. Instead a wisp of a sigh left his lips, heavier than words.

 

“Rin.”

 

A girly name.

Haru set to work.

* * *

A ringtone dissolved the warm quiet.

Haru glanced away from tapping off the portafilter, watching his customer—Rin—pull out his phone. The screen’s glow lit up his wince, his bit lip, and the counter shuddered when he shoved his phone away.

Haru pretended not to notice how his eyes glimmered.

* * *

He slid a small plate holding a mug filled with black, a square tissue box following alongside.

He didn’t comment on how Rin reached for the mug first. How he downed it like it wasn’t scalding bitter. How a gruff sound left him like he had a shock of beer instead.

He glanced at his sketchbook again. Rin’s mouth smacked quietly.

“Americano?”

“…Red eye.”

He didn’t waver when Rin finally looked up, a dry sort of smile on his strained lips.

“Classy.”

“Would you like something else?”

“…No,” he lowered his head, picking his mug up again. “This is good.”

His necklace caught Haru’s eye. A simple loop, like a whistle, dangled off the lace, hovering over the V-neck of his cashmere shirt. Bracelets adorned the gentle curl of his wrist, curved to hold his cup. A red weave bracelet matched his eyes, less bloodshot than days before. Half-lidded, they followed the stain inside the mug, brought to his lips, full and red from his unusually pointed teeth.

It was puzzling, how graceful he looked.

Then Rin’s nose wrinkled like a kitten. His cheeks flushed, and he rubbed his wet sniff.

“ _Ugh_.”

Wasn’t that endearing?

Haru should have felt guilty thinking that. He snuck a shameless smile, inching the tissue closer.

“Here.”

“…Thanks.”

While Rin blew his nose, he busied himself finding his own seat behind the counter. He reached for his waiting sketchbook, drawing the pencil out of the binder, tipping the cover open. The ball of tissue was binned with a dull thud.

Haru hovered his pencil over cream paper, waiting to fill the emptiness with something meaningful. Something inspired.

Rin smacked his mouth again.

“If you burn your tongue,” the smooth hardback rested on Haru’s palm. “You can’t enjoy your coffee.”

“I don’t really care.”

Haru watched the crinkle of his brow. “I see.”

Rin sipped at the rim, and set it down again.

A fresh sheet flicked.

“I won’t mind,” Haru only revolved his wrist. “If you talk about it.”

A clock ticked. Graphite scratched paper.

“…I messed up,” Rin’s voice, his grip. All tightened. “My best friend, I—” A choke. “I messed up.”

“What happened?”

“—It was, I—!” he clutched his hair, tears threatening to spill. “He…I didn’t want…I _could’ve_ …!”

He choked up, furiously wiping his eyes.

Haru set down his pencil, a sympathy tugging his sleeve. “Rin?”

 

“…He asked me out.”

 

Empathy took over. “Ah.”

“I could’ve said yes…” he shook his head, more and more. “I didn’t know he’d make such a face— _god_ , I—!”

 

“I understand.”

 

Rin stopped. He looked at Haru, who resumed drawing.

“…Huh?”

“I understand.”

Haru kept his eyes on the page.

“You…” Rin’s squint softened. “You too, then?”

“My first kiss was my best friend,” Haru looked up from his sketch. “I rejected him after.”

“Do you still…?”

“We’re still friends,” Haru went back to drawing. “It was years ago.”

“But, wasn’t there…?”

“It took a few weeks. He needed his space.”

The coffee machine steamed. A fan whirred overhead.

“We’re still best friends,” Haru confirmed. A melancholy graced his smile. “But those weeks were lonely, without him.”

Rin scratched his head. “I don’t really…see you hang around anyone else, though. _Not that—_ I’m assuming you’re some recluse, but—”

“It’s okay. I only meet with a few friends. But I don’t need many,” Haru smiled. “This café’s enough.”

Rin stared at him. Then at his mug.

“I’ve avoided him since I came here.”

Haru flipped through his old art.

“You’ll come out okay,” he glanced at Rin’s ponytail. “It’s only addressing it.”

Rin scoffed. “The hard part.”

“It’s worth it.”

“…Yeah.”

 

He found Rin’s smile. It was warm.

 

“—I’ll make you a new cup.”

“Huh?” Rin’s head, and brow pulled up. “Wait, what—”

“It’s gone cold.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. I made a whole pot anyway.”

“S-Seriously,” a blush suited Rin, pink on red. “It’s okay. I didn’t even bring that much cash to—”

“You won’t have to pay.”

“Huh?”

“If you talk to your friend,” Haru poured a fresh mug. “You won’t have to pay.”

Coffee’s earthy perfume permeated. He placed the cup down with a hushed clatter, ceramic against wood.

Rin studied Haru’s hands. His flush deepened.

 

“Alright.”

* * *

 

Rin didn’t show up the next day.

 

Nor the day after. Or next.

 

But he didn’t mind.

 

* * *

“Haru?”

 

He looked to concerned green eyes. “What?”

“You seem distant,” Makoto noticed. “Is something the matter?”

Haru attended the coffee machine. He turned on the drip.

“I’m happy for a friend."

Makoto beamed. “Ah?”

“Mm,” he watched liquid black pool in the cup. “He’s overcoming what he needs to, right now.”

“That’s good…” he kept twinkling, watching Haru click a fresh carton of milk to pour into his metal jug. “What’s his name?”

“Rin.”

Makoto nodded, before leaning his elbows on the counter.

Sleep whispered to rest cheek on palm. Makoto closed his eyes to the steam wand, hissing into the rising milk. To the ballad of winter, soothing by the broad window. To Haru’s sketchbook, open, leaves fluttering from the ceiling fan.

 

A crisp flip beckoned his glance.

 

Seeing a stranger, he took a beat—a blink. Then it melted into a smile.

“He’s special, isn’t he?”

Haru turned. A friend grinned up at him, loose lines and crinkled eyes. Warm, like the cup in his hand.

He looked to his other friend sitting, smiling wider.

“…Maybe.”

Makoto chuckled, and warmth spread. He shut his book.

* * *

Four days, Rin didn’t come.

* * *

By five, drawing was a little harder.

* * *

Six.

He learned to stop looking at each tinkle of the door.

* * *

Haru cleaned up everything for the night. He snuggled down in his overcoat, twisting the sign on the door.

_Closed._

Only a lamp cast down on the glass and wood door. He stepped outside the café, and watched his breath wreathe towards the stars. The cold tickled his cheeks, and the world was swathed in warming blue.

Keys jingled in his gloves.

 

“—Excuse me!”

 

The jingling stopped.

“Sorry I called out like that,” Rin’s jog crumpled the snow, and his scarf blew behind. “Realised I never caught your name—oh,” he stopped at Haru’s winter wear, at the yellow-lit sign. “You’re…closing shop now?”

His hair looked maroon in the evening, but his face—cream skin, tea eyes, butter lips. His disappointment pressed, illuminated, and his breaths puffed a dance to the sky.

Haru pocketed his keys. “I have time.”

 

He moved sooner than Rin could object.

 

_Open._

 

* * *

“Nanase Haruka.”

The main lights flickered on.

“Haruka?” Rin pulled up his stool.

“Yes.”

“Guess we’re clubmates, then.” he laughed.

“I prefer Haru.” He tied on his apron.

“Are…first names okay?”

“They’re okay,” he paused. “If you’re okay with them.”

“Okay with me, Haru."

He watched Rin—his lips close, his eyes soften. A butterfly slipped out of its cocoon, to flitter where Haru couldn’t reach.

“What would you like?”

"I’d actually like a sakura latté, but,” Rin showed teeth. “Not in season.”

“Sakura…” Haru scanned his supplies. “…I can make it.”

“You would?”

 

He took in Rin’s smile, and his fingers itched to draw.

 

* * *

"Off the bat, we agreed our friendship was more precious than anything we _could_ have, beyond it that is…”

Haru nodded. “Mm.”

“Right, and then—We…both had enough time to think. And, above all, we wanna be happy and dumb like we always have, always. So we’ve spent the past few days together, to make up for me avoiding him, him avoiding me—the whole mess, basically.”

“How were they?”

“They were great,” Rin grinned without hesitation. “Really, _really_ relieving.”

“That’s good,” he smiled. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Haru,” Another sip. “I’ve been doing that, and extra swimming, so I wasn’t able to come here for the past week.”

“I see.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Rin supped his coffee. Haru outlined his bangs, propping up his own cheek.

“…I’m glad you told me.”

Rin brought his cup up with two hands, between their gaze. “I—thought you should know…”

“Mm.”

“I mean—I never even paid, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head. “You talked to your friend. Remember?”

“W-Well, _still_ —”

He huffed into his mug, and Haru twinkled. Then he calmed: brows relaxed, eyes lidded. Making Haru wonder.

“…Not to mention…” Fingers fidgeted. Rin mumbled. “…I liked being here.”

Blue eyes grew. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. I _like_ being here, too.” a hue speckled his nose, across the bridge. “Present tense.”

 

Haru’s heart filled.

He turned to pour himself a glass a water, using shadows to hide his mellow tone, soft reds. “…Where do you swim?”

 

He caught Rin staring.

 

“— _Oh_ , uh—“ he rubbed his hair fast before facing the window, showing his profile lit by dangling lamps. ”Just—a couple train stops away? But it takes, like, half an hour to get there, from here, so—"

“Oh,” Haru studied the fawn ceiling. “…There. I’ve been there.”

“Yeah,” Rin coughed. “—Yeah, there.”

Haru drank his water. He swallowed smoothly. Rin’s was rougher.

“—You swim?”

_Used to._

“…Yes.”

“ _Really?_ You think you’re up for a swim, then? I mean, we could race, or take a dip, sometime, if you’re—if that’s cool, uh—”

“Yeah,” Haru nodded. Rin stopped fidgeting. “I would like that.”

 

Rin’s face lit up, like how the moon lit the eve.

 

* * *

 

A month flew by.

 

Sharp smiles. Light laughs. Faces, blushes, red all over.

 

A month of Rin.

 

A month together.

 

* * *

“Haru?”

He looked back to his name, Rin’s usual in hand. “Mm?”

“This is…”

 

Rin fingered his sketchbook, in awe of his graphite reflection. Haru froze in a wave of heat.

 

“I…” he swallowed. He put down the sakura latté, and reached for his book. “That’s—”

“—Is this me?”

 

He stopped.

 

Rin flicked through pages. Pages of sitting, standing, swimming, walking, running, smiling, laughing, crying, tinting. Pages of him.

His mouth fell open. Just showing points of teeth. “ _Whoa_ …”

“I…” Words lodged. “I was only…”

“—These are so good!”

Haru blinked.

He stared at each page, flicking after a minute, then flicking back. A smile traced his lips, appreciation furrowed his brow. Haru watched Rin again, forgetting the coffee.

“You…like them?”

“God, _yeah_ , o’course!” Rin chuckled breathlessly. “Haru, these are amazing!”

“…I,” he blinked again, lost. “…Thank you.”

“No problem,” Rin shrugged before whistling. “ _Damn_ I like these,” he flipped a sheet, and he stood in a park with cherry blossoms, and him, shining. A smirk broke out. “I look hot.”

Haru’s ears warmed. “That’s…”

“Is…this,” he started murmuring, cheeks going rosy. “Is this how you see me?”

Sunlight dappled the counter. Haru stared at his fists, clenched, like his chest. His lungs squeezed the word—

“Yes.”

Rin hid his smile. He tucked his bangs behind his ears, deep red against light, and Haru was gripped.

Then Rin laughed. He laughed, and it never sounded sweeter before.

“Aw, _man_ that’s not fair…”

Haru’s heart danced when he leaned forward. Close to Rin.

“What?”

“I wish _I_ could draw,” he whispered, happy. “Then I could show how I see you.”

Haru laid his elbows, contemplating. “…How do you see me?”

 

He heard Rin’s sucked breath. He saw Rin's chewed grin.

 

“—Lemme wake up a bit first.”

He grabbed his latte at a safe speed, knocking a gulp down so Haru bit back a laugh.

“Careful.”

“Mm—” his cup clopped cardboard against wood, and he gave a quenched sigh. “ _Right_.”

 

He looked up, his eyes, glowing from the sun. Haru swore he was blinding, so up close.

 

“…Shit,” Rin shook his head, still grinning and blushing. “Still gorgeous.”

 

They stared.

 

Breaths mingled. Lips stretched. Eyelids slid.

 

Rin tilted his chin. Haru leaned in.

 

“My line.”

 

He tasted like sakura.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the [Iwatobi Channel ES CD cover](http://31.media.tumblr.com/409498303ec1a9e441e05dbe06eb079f/tumblr_nbd7kxGYJo1qfzlwxo1_250.jpg)
> 
> Hope you liked my try at a coffee shop AU! ^^/
> 
>  **EDIT:** I changed the last word just because I can ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ~~because that's what I should've written in the first place dAMNIT~~


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